Bring Me Food

Pizza Luce, now in St. PaulAt this moment, I am the living embodiment of a man who is 39, drinks like he’s 29, and recovers like he’s 49. There’s a thing existing in my head called pain. I am doing that morning after shuffle around my flat. I am in pajamas because putting on pants would hurt my head too much. I squint at things and grumble and moan.

I have thought ahead. In anticipation of this exact situation, I bought a frozen pizza. My plan was to suffer, watch mindless TV, and eat pizza. Aka: A perfect hangover day. Enter Mr. Murphy and his shitty ironic laws that are the instruction manual to my life.

My oven is broken.

After reacting in a frankly melodramatic manner to something this minor, I shuffle over to the window and stare longingly down at the city. There’s a whole world of food out there, but the mere thought of stepping out-of-doors is just insanity. What I really want is for someone to bring me food.

I live on top of a hill. In fact, I live in the middle of a hill. This means that my view is magnificent, I don’t have to worry about floods, and when the zombie apocalypse comes I’ll have a good strategic position. But in practical every day situations, I am screwed. Every time I leave my house I either have to go up or down. Every time I come home I walk a mile from the metro or up a hill that would have winded Tenzing Norgay. Even going to my local pub means a seven minute walk down and then a ten minute walk up. I hate up. And as anyone who’s been here can tell you, everything in Prague is up.

One of my favorite aspects of living in Europe has been the increase in walking. Because of public transport and my lack of car, I walk far more than I ever did living in the U.S. Surely this is one of the very few things keeping me in the category labeled chubby and out of the category labeled morbidly obese.

And while I normally don’t miss cars and I really enjoy walking, at times it can be a pain. Like right now. It’s times like these that I long for the uber-convenience of the United States. And first and foremost on this list of uber-conveniences is delivered food. While living in Pittsburgh, I developed several relationships with delivery people that delved far deeper than a customer-delivery person relationship usually goes. I knew about the Pizza Hut guy’s kids, the gent at the Chinese restaurant used to answer the phone, “Hello Damien or Jamie (my equally order-happy flatmate).” The delivery lady from another pizza place used to call on the way and ask us if we wanted her to pick up a six-pack. Sometimes she would schedule us last on her shift and stay for a beer.

I no doubt lead a far healthier and more active life in Prague than I did in Pittsburgh. If I still lived there, I’d be riding one of those scooters around the mall and wearing a muumuu.

In any event, I still need food and feeling healthier doesn’t help me out right now. And desperate times call for desperate measure, so I decide to cook my pizza on the stove top. This takes longer than you’d think. And as it cooks, I’d kill for a Czech Dabbawala.

I bet they’d even grab me some beer on the way.

  1. #1 by Jared on October 14, 2013 - 5:09 pm

    Thank you, Damien. I believe that every once in a while, we need someone who has expatriated to remind us happy citizens just how wonderful the conveniences are that we have developed. When I was in college, I lived in a town that had some of the most wonderful conveniences available to mankind. We had food delivery, beer delivery (with or without cigarettes), and of course, vending machines that sold snacks, drinks, and live bait.
    U.S.A, U.S.A, U.S.A.

    • #2 by Damien Galeone on October 15, 2013 - 8:25 am

      I miss those live bait coolers. And yes, Jared, please today, someday soon, order something ridiculous, order from 5 places at the same time and let me live vicariously! Live the dream!

  2. #3 by Hokey Pokey Trainer on October 14, 2013 - 6:20 pm

    I’m sure you’d look so cute in a muumuu.

  3. #5 by Allison on October 15, 2013 - 1:19 am

    There’s a pizza place on U Santos’ky, near where Jeff and Adam and I used to live, that delivers.
    Ya know, for future reference. They’ll bring beer too.

    • #6 by Damien Galeone on October 15, 2013 - 8:26 am

      See, instead of writing this post on Sunday I should have put out a blanket request on Facebook.

      • #7 by Allison on October 15, 2013 - 7:07 pm

        Might have been more immediately effective, but less cathartic.

  4. #8 by Kelly on October 24, 2013 - 6:08 am

    I would die without food delivery. Literally. From starvation. I hate that every time I call the pizza place they already know what the food is and where it’s going before I even have to say anything. But I would take that any day over having to walk up a ten minute hill balancing three calzones and a diet coke on top of one another.

    • #9 by Damien Galeone on October 24, 2013 - 8:15 am

      Oh my God, K…it’s 8:14 am and I would now kick a puppy through an electric fan for a calzone. Why? Why did you put that in my head when there is no hope of satisfaction until 40 minutes after my flight lands on December 21st?

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